


252 days left in Paradise

by Mylesime



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bullying, Byler - freeform, Closeted Character, F/M, Former Friends, Gay Will Byers, High School, M/M, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2019-06-28 06:30:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15701736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mylesime/pseuds/Mylesime
Summary: Hawkins, 1988, Senior year. Will Byers is the lonely queer of the school, constantly bullied and persecuted. Will is used to threats and insults, doesn’t really care, lives his life as best as possible, focused on his college plans away from provincial Hawkins. One day however, he sees his routine brutally disturbed when his English teacher pairs him up for a project with Mike Wheeler, the heartthrob of the school to whom Will hasn’t spoken in years and never stopped liking in secret.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dear all,  
> I've wanted to write some teenage drama for a moment now.  
> This is pure Byler, as Byler is my OTP.  
> It's a bit different from my other work, I hope you'll like it.
> 
> WARNING: language, homophobia, bullying, homophobic slurs.

Another day in Paradise Will thought as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t a fancy reflection. Nape long brown hair, pale complexion, skinny body. Will wasn’t exactly an athlete. With the years, he had learned not to care. He hated sports anyway. He sighed, looked at the calendar proudly pinned on the wall above his desk. Only 252 days before the end of the year. He could do it. He had already survived three years in this Hell people called High School. The senior year had proven to be the hardest yet, but he could do it. He gave himself the mental courage he needed, checked the box on the calendar. _251 days left_. It was a small improvement and it made his heart leap in his chest.

He put his usual pair of jeans on with a light blue shirt, combed his hair a little. Not that it would make a difference in his everyday life. He wasn’t going to impress anyone and he certainly didn’t want to be seen too much. He already was a little too popular for his own taste. Being invisible was a privilege boys like him didn’t have apparently.

He trotted down the stairs to the kitchen. The milk and cereal boxes already were on the table, ready for him.

“Hey kiddo!” his mother greeted him, ruffling his hair.

He smiled at her, took his usual seat and poured the cereal into the bowl.

“Any exciting class today?” she asked, sipping from her coffee, looking at her youngest with adoration.

Will shrugs, “I have gym this morning…”

“Ow, poor sweetie. It’s gonna be ok.”

He shrugged again, munched on his cereal without much enthusiasm.

He drove silently to school, following the usual path he took everyday, rock music playing on the radio, the only ok music station in Hawkins. He parked on his usual spot. It was easy to recognize, covered in slurs and creative drawings of the worst taste. Will no longer paid attention to them anymore. 251 days left, he repeated in his head, giving himself more courage as the building of the school rose in his peripheral, bringing about that same amount of daily anxiety. He stopped riding his bike to school after they’d taken the wheels and left it half broken in the mud. Dustin had been nice enough to give him a ride, telling him to ignore them. It was easy to say for Dustin. Everything was easier for jocks.

He stopped the engine, checked his surrounding. There weren't too many kids. Hopefully, he would be able to walk to his class without too much damage. He took a deep sigh, prep-talked himself and walked out of the shelter of his car. Hands in pockets, head low not to be seen, he took hurried steps to the main gate, almost running to clear the distance between the classroom and himself faster.

His locker was easy to find too. It was yellow, adorned with the slogan “I suck cock” in huge pink letters and drawings of dicks everywhere. The words “Faggot locker”, “Fag,” “Fairyland,” could also be seen between two sketches. Will used to clean his locker everyday. Now he no longer cared. They were written in permanent ink anyway. Joyce was furious when she found out and she demanded they be removed, going directly to the Principal's office. Mr Snigle, the principal, barely blinked at her, telling her her son should probably try to participate more in traditional boy’s activities and be less of a cissy if he wanted to be respected. Joyce almost punched him and she ended up being dragged out of the school. Jim also tried to intervene, to no avail.

He took his books for his algebra class, looking straight at his locker, not making eye contact with anybody. He wasn't going to give them fuel to insult him again.

“Hey Byers!”

He turned to see Dustin walk to him, huge and imposing. Will smiled at him. When Dustin talked to him, no one dared attack.

“Hi Dustin,” he replied softly.

“You didn't reply to my invitation man.”

Will frowned, “Your invitation?”

“Yeah, my invitation for my upcoming Halloween party. I gave it to you last week. Remember?”

“Oh,” Dustin’s invitation. To a party. With loads of people. And Will, “Oh. The party. Yeah. No. Sorry Dustin, I won’t be able to come.”

Dustin’s shoulders fell, his features expressing nothing but disappointment, “Oh come on, Will. It’ll be fun.”

Will took his last book that he piled on the two others, “Yeah I don’t think so… Unless you want me to be the Piñata.”

He walked past Dustin who followed him, “What are you afraid of? I’ll protect you!”

Will stopped, turned to Dustin with a frown, his book secured under his arm, “I don’t need protection.”

“Then come,” he joined his hands, bending to Will to be on his level and look him in the eye with the pleading sadness of a puppy, “Please.”

Will rolled his eyes. He hated it when Dustin did that.

“It’ll be fun, I promise Will.”

Will doubted it. He doubted it very much. And if it was to be fun, it would be at his expense.

“I… I’ll think about it…”

This seemed to cheer Dustin up whose face split in the biggest, brightest toothy smile.

“Awesome! There will be Lucas too and probably your sister and…”

Will cut him off, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, Dustin. I said I’ll think about it.”

Dustin’s smile didn’t disappear and he was still staring at Will with as much elation on his face as a Christmas tree. It made Will chuckle. It was cute which was an odd thought considering Dustin had more of the bear than the seventeen year-old boy. He rolled his eyes, smirking in spite of himself. His attention was suddenly caught up by cheers from the other side of the hall. He frowned, his heart racing as he saw the one boy he did his best to avoid walk into view with the proud gait of a peacock, his groupies drooling behind him. _Mike Wheeler_. Will took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts off before his cheeks began to do something dangerous like blushing. The boy who had been by his side for most of his first years and whom he used to call his best friend. Now Mike and Will hadn’t talked in almost three years. It was Mike who stopped talking and hanging out with Will. They all had, finding a hobby for themselves and a new group of friends. Only Dustin still socialized with him on a weekly basis. The others… Well… It wasn’t exactly reputation healthy to hang out with the school fag and Will clearly had zero argument to counter their accusations. High School changed people like that. If you didn’t blend it, you were destroyed.

Mike beamed at the girls, gorgeous in his jacket, his dark curls framing his cherub face perfectly. He was an odd contrast between boyish and girlish, a contrast that regularly earned Will black eyes but propelled Mike to the lover boy front scene. Will couldn’t blame them. Mike was superb and it took all his restraint to keep that stupid crush buried within himself.

“Uhm, uhm…”

He blinked back into awakeness. Dustin was staring at him with a knowing look, wiggling his brow suggestively.

“Mike will be there too.”

Will huffed, setting out on his way. He hated Dustin’s implication. They made him feel awful about himself, obvious.

“Awesome…” he dismissed it, annoyed, ignoring Dustin who was cackling behind him.

The first two periods went smoothly. Will tried his hardest to stay focused on the class and not drift about things that clearly shouldn't be on his mind. Mike was just a few seats away from him. They didn't share all classes but algebra, gym and English always were Mike centric hours for Will, gym being the worse for the most obvious reasons.

The hardest was to make sure Mike wouldn’t notice anything. It wasn’t very complicated. Will even doubted Mike saw him. Will’s hand moved on its own, tracing the lines of Mike’s face. He had drawn that face so many times, he no longer needed to focus or pay attention. It was all muscle memory.

He liked Mike’s mouth the most. His beautiful mouth. Will would have lied if he said he never imagined what it’d feel like to kiss it. Not that it would ever happen. He yet had to kiss anyone seriously, his only experience being with the only girl he dated in eighth grade. The most awkward experience of his life. He stayed with Laura for two weeks before ending the relationship, realizing he had more emotion looking at pictures of Johnny Depp from 21st Jump Street than any girl in any magazine. It probably started the stain in his relationship with the former Party members.

He remembered how the others used to insist about girls and Will, poor Will, really had nothing to say but hum and shrug awkwardly.

He never truly admitted it to himself either, looked at boys, found them cute, forgot he ever had. It was easier this way. It didn't stop the boys to pester him about it though. Will never stared too long, always kept to himself but it was never enough for them.

The most embarrassing moments of the week were the restroom stops where he had to make sure no other boy was in the room with him unless he wanted to be called a freak even though he was just washing his hands. There also were the changing moments right before gym. Those were the worst. The boys never failed to make him feel like the most disgusting of pervs. It was something Will had trouble processing. Just because he was labelled “fag” now meant every penis owner was apparently a potential prey to his monstrous appetite. Will found it both insulting and outrageous. He certainly didn’t care for the vast majority of them, penis owner or not. The only one who forced a stir in his heart was Mike and it wasn’t just about his penis. Though, it still sometimes crossed his mind. The thought of Mike being Mike was enough.

He felt like one his groupies, blushing at his every apparition, starving for a glimpse of him. The only difference being that Will had absolutely zero chance and that it was abnormal. Some guys already were rather suspicious of Will’s shiny eyes whenever Mike was around, especially when he was half-naked and Will couldn’t help but peak.

“Are you guys coming to Candice’s party on Saturday?” one of the guys suddenly asked as they were all changing, Will secluded to his small corner, “She’s doing it in her big mansion.”

“There’s not just her mansion that is big, if you see what I mean!”

One of the guys snorted, “Haha! Yeah! Can’t be called Candice and not be a huge slut in my opinion!”

Will swallowed. He hated being alone with them, hearing them talk their sexist shit. It always made him feel awfully uncomfortable. It that was what being a man was, he wanted no part of it.

“I confirm,” Mike said, smirking knowingly. It made Will gag.

“Wheeler! You banged her?”

“And not just once! She’s a real ride. You can do everything to that bitch!” he winked.

Will’s gag intensified. How could he have feelings for that guy? Mike’s friends cheered. Will was so focused on being disgusted with the conversations he had been forced to hear that he failed to notice the danger on his right until it was too late. His eye caught sight of Mike removing his shirt, revealing his creamy chest. Will bit his lip, sensing the usual warmth color his cheeks. His heart sped up. He couldn’t help but find him beautiful which did not go unnoticed by Mike’s tribe of alpha idiots.

“Oh look,” one of them said, pointing at Will, “The fag is blushing. Be careful Wheeler, seems like you have a fan!”

Will bit his lip in sudden embarrassment. He immediately retreated behind his locker in the corner, slipped his shirt over his skinny body in haste, trying his hardest to forget the image of Mike’s athletic torso. The guy, a brute called Larry, insisted, closing the locker so that he was visible to all again, making him feel like a squirrel caught by a herd of hyenas.

“What’s the matter Byers? Don’t you wanna suck his cock?”

“You want a free blowjob Wheeler?! I think he’s offering!”

They all began to laugh. Will felt tears prick his eyes. He hadn't even wanted to look. Mike just happened to be in his periphery. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mike put on his white top, not even turning to look at them.

“Shut up Gabe. It’s gross,” he whispered.

“Oh come on man! Look at him! I’m sure he’s dying inside to have your dick in his mouth! Aren’t you little fairy?!”

Mike dismissed him, “Yeah I’ll pass,” he turned to his friend with a smirk, “But go ahead. You sound like you really, really want a ride!”

Gabe opened his mouth, offended.

“Shut your mouth! Don’t say disgusting stuff like that. I’m not a fag!”

“Neither am I. So please, don’t make assumptions,” he winked, walking past them, not even sparing a glance at Will who wanted to disappear in a hole.

The scent of Mike’s cologne hit him and he gasped in spite of himself, his heart racing in his chest in shame and unwanted enjoyment. He dared one glance toward the tall boy who was already disappearing in the stadium, absolutely not minding them.

“Freak,” Gabe spat at him before joining his team.

They left Will alone in the changing room, his shirt and shorts hugging his scrawny body, fighting back the tears of humiliation that threatened to run down his face. School really wasn’t the place to be emotional.

He tried to remain invisible for the biggest part of the class, forcing his eyes down on his sketchbook, not on Mike who was playing just across. He was silly, really. This stupid crush would take him nowhere. Even when they were children and still friends, Will only felt pain at seeing Mike talk about girls and flirt with his sister. It didn’t last with El and Will comforted Mike all night long. They were fourteen at the time. Their last year of friendship. After that, Will was alone. He had hoped that Mike would like him back, before he realized that what he was feeling wasn’t ok for the people around him. He never thought there was anything remotely wrong in loving someone. Apparently, for the others there was. And Will watched Mike go with Charlene, Andrea, Julie, Beth and so many more, he’d forgotten their names.

“BYERS!” the teacher, Mrs Jacob, screeched in her whistle, “ON THE FIELD! NOW!”

Will sighed. There would be no cutting to it. He put his sketchbook away and dragged his feet down the stairs that led him to the place he hated most.

“White team,” Mrs Jacob barked at him with her usual gentleness.

Everyone knew that she hated Will and she never missed an occasion to remind him. He took the white jersey from the pile, put it on and readied himself for another long game of Volleyball. He hated that sport.

Mrs Jacob whistled again. The game began. Will remained there, absolutely useless as bodies around him hurried to catch and throw. Two simple commands Will’s brain and muscles were apparently unable to put in motion. He couldn’t run, couldn’t jump and always missed the ball. Fortunately, the kids were ignoring him, passing the ball to everyone in the team except him. He wasn’t going to complain. His team scored twice. The opposite team, Mike’s team, scored four times. They were faster, stronger. Will’s eyes met Mike. His heart sped up again as it always did whenever he found himself near him. Mike’s expression was neutral. He rose his hand and hit the ball effortlessly. Will sometimes wished he could have had such an agile body too. He felt clumsy and awkward, not entirely finished. It was already difficult to focus on a game but with Mike being so close, it was downright impossible. Feet moved rapidly, hands hit the ball repeatedly. It went all too fast for Will who could reproduce anything he saw on paper as if it were a photography but couldn’t have coordinated his hands to catch something for dear life.

Just out of nowhere, the ball hit him in the stomach. Hard. He winced, the air knocked out of him and fell on his knees, trying to breath. Mrs Jacob stopped the game.

“Travis,” she said, “You’re not supposed to hit the players. This isn’t a game of dodgeball.”

Travis, a tall lanky guy Will had never spoken to in two years, rose his hand in apology, ignoring Will. Mrs Jacob shake her hand, making no gesture to help Will however. The bell rang the end of the class. Around him the kids hurried to the changing rooms, impatient to finally eat. Will remained on his knees, his eyes burning with pain. He wanted to go home. He hated this place.

A hand suddenly appeared before him. He blinked, looked up, his heart missing a beat. Mike was staring at him, his hand reached to Will. There wasn’t a single emotion on his face. Will swallowed, shy. He hesitated, looking for a potential trap, and took Mike’s offered hand. It was warm, a bit clammy. Mike lifted him up back on his feet.

“Thanks,” Will mumbled, not looking at him.

Mike shrugged, “No problem.”

He walked past Will who stood there like a complete fool. It was the first time they had spoken in years.

He dressed back in haste, ignored the foul conversations around him, almost ignored Mike and headed to the cafeteria. He was hungry. The room was already packed with kids queuing with their tray. Will filled his with mashed potatoes and chicken wings before retreating to his usual eating spot. His friend, Matilda was already there.

“Hey Will!” she waved at him.

Will smiled, joining her. Matilda was his only friend. Like him, she was part of the unpopular kids of the school. She was cute, big blue eyes and cute little nose. But she wasn’t a hot girl like his sister or Candice who had the plastic of a porn star. Matilda was a small, plump girl with huge round glasses that ate most of her face. Obviously, this wasn’t exactly a catch on among the boys of the school.

“How was your morning? I didn’t see you.”

Will sighed, playing with his fork, “Awful.”

“I heard you were hurt in gym.”

“Not really. I’m fine.”

“They’re all jerks. Ignore them.”

“Yeah, I’m trying.”

The sound of a laughter broke into the cafeteria. He turned his head to see Mike, his beautiful smile gracing his face. He was laughing to a joke one of his friends cracked. His smile always made Will want to die.

“Will,” Matilda said softly, “Don’t hurt yourself. He’s not worth it.”

Will shrugged. Matilda knew. She was the only who really knew.

“I can’t help it. He’s so beautiful.”

She grimaced, “Not that beautiful. His nose looks funny. Crooked like a hawk. It’s not sexy.”

Will chuckled. It was always endearing, this habit of hers to try and cheer him up.

“It is to me.”

She shook her head, finishing her meal. Will forced his eyes back on his plate, his ears strained to hear the slightest echo of Mike’s voice.

English class was one of the few classes Will really enjoyed. His teacher Mrs Rosenberg was the most cultivated and interesting teacher he had ever had. She was also very open-minded, never judging anyone, always trying to find the positive in each of her students.

They were currently working on the subtext. Lots of kids found it absolutely boring but Will thought it was fascinating.

He turned his attention back to the book they were studying, _The Picture of Dorian Gray_.

“Now,” Mrs Rosenberg said, “Can you tell me why, in your opinion, this book was so controversial for it's time?”

Hands rose in the air. Will didn't participate. He never did.

“Because it’s gay?” Larry proposed with his usual smug arrogance.

Laughter accompanied the reply. Will’s heart clenched in anger. Beside him, Matilda rolled her eyes. Mrs Rosenberg however dismissed him with a gentle smile.

“This isn't entirely wrong,” she answered, “There is strong homoeroticism throughout the book which was seen as a moral offense by the Victorian society. But there is more to it.”

Hands rose again. She picked one.

“Yes Anita?”

“I think this book is overrated,” she stated.

Mrs Rosenberg raised her eyebrow, “Care to elaborate?”

“It’s awfully sexist,” she returned to the book and began to read, _“My dear boy, no woman is a genius. Women are a decorative sex. They never have anything to say, but they say it charmingly. Women represent the triumph of matter over mind, just as men represent the triumph of mind over morals.”_ How horrible is that? It’s condescending and rude.”

“The author was a fag. Of course he hated chicks!” Gabe mumbled.

“Gabe please, that is not a language I will tolerate in my class.” Gabe made a sign of peace with his hand but he didn't apologize. She turned to Anita again, “Lord Henry is a sexist man. But then again, he’s a bitter man who desperately wants to live through Dorian’s youth.”

She walked to the middle of the room, stopped by Mike’s side who was busy playing with his pen.

“What is Oscar Wilde’s main criticism in this book? What is the main theme?”

There was a heavy silence in the room. Will knew the answer. He had read the book too.

“Social deception,” Mike suddenly said, breaking the silence, “The guy does the most despicable things and never faces the consequences. He’s a shallow narcissist and a liar,” he had said it without even looking from his book.

Mrs Rosenberg nodded slowly, “Excellent Mike. That is absolutely true. Social amorality and social deception are the main themes of the book. It’s about living a double life and lying to all, even to oneself. This trail of thoughts was inconceivable in Victorian society. It was unheard of.”

She walked back to her desk. It was the end of the class.

“Now as some of you may remember, I mentioned a project I would like you to work on,” she looked up at the class, “I want you to pick a book of your choice and present it to the class. I want it to be a book that rose controversy in its time. This will be a group project. You’ll be paired up with someone.”

The students began to chat among themselves, already choosing their partner. Will turned to Matilda who winked at him.

Mrs Rosenberg rose her hand to shush them, “Now, now, I will be designating the pairs,” her answer brought about loud protests and indignation.

She produced a list, “I already have made them. Where would be the fun otherwise?!” she ignored the general discontentment and began to read, “Anita with Jackson, Laurence with Henry, Joseph with Gabe, Travis with Larry, Matilda with Candice, Harvey and Tania, Judie and Bridget, Will with Mike, Stefan with Irina…”

She kept calling the names but Will could no longer hear, the words forming a distant background buzz. His brain had stopped working. _Will with Mike. Will with Mike. Will with Mike…_

_This couldn't be happening._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey!  
> So, first of I wanted to say a massive THANK YOU for all your kuddos and comments! :O  
> I didn't expect to receive so many for just one chapter! So thank you all! They mean a lot to me.
> 
> I hope you'll like this second installment just as much :)

Will barely listened to Mrs Rosenberg’s final recommendations, his vision blurring on the clock that ticked the end of the class.

The bell rang and the flock of students immediately leaped off their desks, all chatting energetically with each other about the project and more specifically about the newly announced pairings.

Will’s heart was still hammering in his chest and his head was spinning. He was having a panic attack. A hand fell on his shoulder. He jumped, startled and turned to see Matilda staring at him with a worried expression.

“Are you ok?” she almost mouthed and Will nodded.

Mike’s group walked past them. They were all mocking Mike, laughing, pushing him around. Mike looked like he was walking to his death, not paying much attention to his friends but walking with his head low, as if trying to protect himself from shame. It made Will even more self-conscious.

“Haha, Wheeler!” Gabe was saying, “Be careful he doesn't infect you!”

“Don’t get too close. You don’t wanna wake up with a sore ass!”

“Free blowjobs though!”

They laughed and cackled, winked at Will who wanted nothing more than disappear. Matilda shook her head slowly.

“Idiots,” she breathed.

Will swallowed, his head still hurting with the impressive ball of stress that shot up his brain.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. He didn’t have any other class with Mike so it was easier. But he still couldn’t focus. Being paired up with him terrified him. He knew the other boy would probably try to change of partner anyway. They couldn’t work together. Will knew this. They didn’t even talk, hadn’t talked in years, Mike avoiding him. He wasn’t really mean to Will like the others but Will made him uncomfortable. He could feel it in the way Mike never sat next to him or touch things Will had touched, like he was afraid Will would infect him with his disease.

That’s what they said on TV. Gay people infected you and you died.

Will didn’t have AIDS. He hadn’t even kissed a boy. What boy would have wanted to kiss him or be close to him? There wasn’t any other gay kid in Hawkins. He was alone.

Matilda tried her best to cheer him up. He really liked her. She was a great friend. She knew that Will liked boys. She was the only one who really knew. He hadn’t even came out to his mom or Jim. They both had their suspicions, he could tell, but never tried to press the matter. It was probably easier for them to pretend it was only in their heads.

“What are you going to do?” Matilda asked as the bell rang the end of the day.

Will shrugged, packing his books, “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll have to do anything. It’s not like Mike isn’t going to ask for another partner.”

“You think he’ll ask to change?”

Will sent her a pointed look that was all the answer he could give. He threw his bag over his shoulder and left the room, Matilda trotting behind him to stay on talking level with him. Will wasn’t very tall and he didn’t walk that fast so it wasn't such an ordeal.

“Knowing Mrs Rosenberg as we do,” she continued, “She won’t accept.”

“Mike can be persuasive.”

He stopped on the school friend door threshold, frozen. Mike was hopping in his car, waving a the girl who smiled brightly at him. Will swallowed, watching him start the engine and leave the parklot in barely a minute.

His homework kept him busy for a couple of hours. He tried not to doodle too much, focusing to finish his maths. Mike’s eyes were everywhere on his sketchbook. His mouth too. Will loved his mouth. He sighed, realizing he had once again drifted and shook his head, rereading the equation for the fifth time.

His sister barged into the room without knocking.

“Still wasting your time?” she said, pointing her chin to the math book, “I gave up long ago.”

Will rolled his eyes, “Good for you.”

She ignored him, came to look above his shoulder. She smelled like artificial strawberry shampoo and cigarettes.

“Are you coming tonight?” she asked casually.

“Where?”

“To the Burrow.”

“Why would I go to the Burrow?”

“Because it’s fun. And it’s where all the cool kids go.”

“Since when am I a cool kid?” he slurred, trying to retrieve his line of thought, his eyes blurring on the numbers.

She shrugged, “You could try. That would do you some good.”

“No thank you. I’ve played enough social for today.”

She leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Mike will be there. He’s playing.”

His ears throbbed. His heart leapt in his chest. His hands shook on the pen he was holding. Why would anyone always assume Mike could be used as an argument? He certainly wasn't in the mood to see him flirt with all the girls of the club. Although he loved watching him play and sing. He had a nice voice.

He dismissed it with a gesture of his shoulder, “I don’t care.”

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun.”

She bounced toward his dresser and began to rummage through his clothes. He jumped off his chair, alarmed.

“What are you doing?”

“Picking you a cute outfit,” he opened his mouth to protest but she beat him to it, “You should pay more attention to your looks.”

She took a pair of light blue jeans, threw them on the bed with a pout and Will watched in horror as she made a mess through his carefully folded jeans and shirts.

“I thought boys like you took extra care of their appearance,” she noted.

There it was. The direct allusion no one truly dared talk about. Will shrugged, not acknowledging but not dismissing it either. She paid him no attention, kept searching through his clothes.

“Ah!” she said triumphantly, picking out dark tight pants Will had never worn, “That is super cute! How come you never wore it?!”

Will eyed the piece of cloth warily, “Probably because it’s revealing as fuck and not exactly my style!”

She ignored him, took a black shirt she had found God knew where and gave it to him seconds after.

“That too.”

He stared at the outfit, mouth hanging open.

“I am _not_ wearing any of those. What’s next? A leather jacket and a fake moustache?!”

She turned to look at him with a frown, “A moustache would look awful on you. The jacket however… Oh and boots!” she bounced, over excited.

He hurried to calm her, “Jane. Jane, please stop. You’re sweet but I don’t want to look cute or hot or whatever. So please, put those back where you found them.”

She looked at him, horrified, “But you can’t go wearing _that_!” pointing at his dull jeans and blue shirt.

“I’m not wearing anything because I’m not going.”

Her expression faltered, “But -”

“- I’m not going. I don’t like this place. I don’t like the people there. They make me feel uncomfortable and I don’t want to go dressed as a Village People caricature. I have enough problems.”

She looked down, disappointed.

“You’re never coming anywhere with me anymore. You stay locked up in your room all evening.”

“I’m fine in my room.”

“You’re young Will. Live a little.”

“I will” he promised, “When I’m out of Hawkins. There’s nothing for me here.”

She crossed the distance between them, looking at him with her big brown eyes.

“You have me,” she said.

He smiled, touching her cheek, “I know.”

“I miss my brother.”

He looked down. She couldn’t understand. She fitted. It took her time but she fitted now. He didn’t. He had lost all his friends. He had lost Mike. He was the high school scapegoat. The one nobody wanted.

“I know. I’m sorry. But go. Have fun!”

“Will you stay here drawing?”

He shrugged, “Maybe.”

He walked back to his desk. She was still beside him, waiting for the right moment to speak.

“I heard you’ve been paired up with Mike in English,” she brought up.

“Yeah…” he tried to focus back on his maths but the equation had lost all meaning.

“It could be a good thing,” she offered, “It could be a way to start talking again.”

“He’ll ask to change of partner,” he noted casually.

“How do you know?”

He didn’t answer. She came to sit on the edge of his blue comforter, right across the desk.

“It’ll be cool if you talked again,” she said.

“That’ll never happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s in the world. I’m out.”

She looked down sadly, blinked.

“What happened? You two were so close.”

He shrugged, wrote the beginning of an answer to the equation, not looking at her.

“Life happened.”

“Did you do anything?” she suddenly asked.

He turned to her with a confused frown, “What?”

She bit her lip, uncomfortable, her hands falling between her parted legs, her back arching in a ball.

“I don’t know… Did you…” she looked up, shy and hesitant, “try anything that could have… set him off?”

His mouth fell open in shock. Anger slowly paved in. She realized she had crossed a line and rose her hands, straightened up in apology.

“I mean, you really were super close… And I know that you… liked him very much… So -”

“- did I do anything _inappropriate_?” he finished for her in a harsh tone, “Did I try to kiss him? Did I make him uncomfortable with my disgusting _queerness_?” he was livid.

“No. Will. That’s no -”

He turned to his maths, his lip trembling with shame.

“- I didn’t do anything,” he spat, “We just stopped talking. _He_ stopped when he started hanging out with Gabe and his friends. They were much better for his reputation than the zombie / fag boy returned from the dead who was never invited to any party!”

She closed her eyes, “Will…”

“Mike is super hot and normal. So is Lucas. And Dustin… If extraterrestrials came to earth and had to pick one specimen to illustrate human masculinity, they’d pick Dustin because the guy’s perfect. I’m not. I never changed. I’m a nerd, El. I’m one of those fragile, puny boys people always make fun of! The guys had to stop hanging out with me if they wanted to survive and socially evolve! I would have held them down…”

Jane shook her head, “Stop being so hard on yourself. You’re the best brother. You’re adorable and super talented. And Dustin’s still your friend. He keeps inviting you everywhere. You always say no. Lucas tried too.”

Will shrugged.

Jane gave him a pained look, “I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean anything wrong. I just… I don’t understand. I miss seeing you with Mike. You were so perfect together.”

Will snorted, “We were a little _too_ perfect…”

Jane blinked, silent a few seconds and he could feel her eyes on him.

“You’re really not coming?” she said softly.

He shook his head, “Sorry. I have a new piece I’d like to finish anyway.”

She nodded and left him to his maths, the clothes she had picked still scattered on his bed.

He finished solving his equation and went to grab some leftovers from the fridge that he heated in the microwave, switching the TV on a cartoon. He liked being alone in the house. He used to be afraid of being alone, used to be afraid of the dark and the whispers no one could hear. The fear still crawled back in sometimes but he was fighting it, conquering it slowly.

He sat at the kitchen table in front of the TV with a spoon and his bowl of pasta, watching the cartoon for sole company. It was past eight and Hopper would be home soon. He briefly thought of Jane, briefly thought of Mike. He had seen him play a couple of times. He was good. Nice voice and charismatic as hell. Girls screaming and swooning and all that shit.

He rinsed his bowl and the spoon, let them dry on the rack, switched the TV off and returned to his room followed by silence, closing the door for privacy.

His hand trailed on his stereo, falling on his collection of albums Jonathan helped him choose from local stores, picked one from Black Sabbath and let Iron Man blast in. He liked Ozzy Osbourn’s voice, liked the soothing rhythm of it. Liked his looks too.

He went back to his desk, pulled on his drawer handle and grabbed his sketchbook that he opened on his latest work, a bare-chested boy with angel wings. It wasn’t intentional but the boy’s face looked similar to Mike, with his huge eyelashes and full lips.

He spent the next hour sharpening the contours, lulled by Osbourn’s voice and the regular beat of the drums.

A soft knock on his door made his hand twitch. He turned his head with a gasp, saw Hopper look at him, dressed in his usual uniform.

“Hey kiddo,” Hopper greeted.

Will smiled, “Hey!”

“You’re not with J at that club where you kids go?”

WIll shook his head, grimaced, “Wasn’t in the mood.”

“Ok, ok,” Hopper said, removing his hat, scratching his head, “Everything’s good?”

“Yeah. I just didn’t want to go.”

Hopper nodded, “You ate?”

Will nodded, “I took the leftovers.”

“Good,” Hopper said, turning to look at the walls around him awkwardly, “I er… I’m gonna go watch TV. Feel free to join me.”

“Ok.”

Hopper frowned, opened his mouth hesitantly.

“You know you can talk to me, right? If there's something on your mind, I'm here.”

Will shook his head, smiling, “I know. I’m good. I swear. Just wanted to finish my work.”

Hopper nodded slowly, “Ok.”

He waited a moment and turned on his heels toward the living room and Will remained in his room, sharpening the boy’s wings, darkening those eyes and lips.

He didn't really know what to expect of the day that followed but nothing much happened. The world didn’t collapse when he walked into the school and there was no catastrophe whatsoever. Mike ignored him. Gabe and the others picked on him like any ordinary day.

“Have you talked to Mike?” Matilda asked as they made their way to their last period of the morning.

Will shook his head, “No. Have you talked to Anita?”

She nodded, “I have.”

“So?”

“She’s not so bad. It’s Anita but we should be able to get something done.”

Will nodded, ignoring Matilda's pointed look.

“You need to talk to Mike,” she continued.

Will shrugged, “I don’t think so.”

“Are you really going to risk an F because you can’t talk to your ex best friend about a stupid assignment?”

“Mike will ask to change of partner.”

“And what if he doesn’t? Wheeler doesn’t seem to be very active on the matter. He’s ignoring you.”

“He’s been ignoring me for three years. Nothing new here.”

“Will.”

“I’ll talk to Mrs Rosenberg after class. Mike and I can’t work together.”

She rolled his eyes, “Fine. Do that. I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Kay.”

English passed in slow motion, Will keeping his eyes glued on Mike stiff as a stick on his chair, looking straight in front of him, never turning once to meet Will’s burning glare.

Will hated it, hated being ignored like that.

Mrs Rosenberg continued her explanation of Oscar Wilde’s social criticism but Will barely listened. His ears were buzzing with the vision of Mike’s face and the way his jaw clenched every now and then.

Mike sprinted toward the door the second the bell rang and Will decided he had had enough. He packed his things and walked to the teacher’s desk.

“Mrs Rosenberg?”

“Yes William?” she said, putting her book back into her bag.

“It’s about the assignment.”

“The selection of the book must be handed by the end of the week.”

“Yes. About that, I don't think l’ll be able to work with Mr Wheeler.”

She frowned, “Why is that? You’re both brilliant with distinct personalities that I’m sure can be quite complementary.”

“Yeah… No… Our relationship is a bit… sour. As I’m sure Mike already told you.”

“Mr Wheeler didn’t tell me anything.”

Will’s eyes widened, “He didn’t? He didn’t ask you to change of partner?”

“Not that I know of. I believe you may be overreacting a bit. I know the kids in this class can sometimes take a joke a bit too far but they’re not as bad as you think they are. Mr Wheeler didn’t ask me anything. You’re the only one who came to me.”

Will blinked, confused.

She bit her lip, “You know, sometimes we need to put our differences aside and find compromises to get the job done. That's one of the hardest points of being part of a society. You will be confronted to similar situations in your future career and there won't be any cutting to it. Better start now.”

She took her bag and left the room and Will who remained rooted in his spot more confused than ever.

He barely ate, keeping his eyes locked on Mike, forcing him to know that Will was watching, that Will was there.

“He didn't talk to Mrs Rosenberg?” Matilda asked.

Will shook his head, not removing his eyes from Mike’s skull.

“He’s playing passive,” Will said, “That’s Mike. When something displeases him, he ignores it and wishes it’ll go away.”

He knew Mike. They were no longer talking but Will could still recognize his basic defense mechanism. Those hadn't changed.

He also knew Mike could play that game indefinitely and Will clearly didn't have the patience anymore. He was sick of it.

Beside, if Mike hadn't asked for a change of partner, did this mean Will had a chance at all? His heart was beating fast with sudden hope and excitement. Perhaps they could work together. Perhaps Jane was right. This could be their way of being friends again. He wanted more. But being friends with Mike was better than nothing.

It might have been the huge glass of coke he had gulped in a ridiculously small amount of time, the caffeine rushing through his veins, making him hyper or his conversation with Mrs Rosenberg replaying in his head. It could also be just him and his brain going crazy with all this new emotion, but he rose from his chair, balled his hands into fists and headed toward their table on shaky legs albeit determined.

“Will?” Matilda said but he ignored her.

When they saw him approach, Gabe and the others stopped talking. They turned to look at him with the same nasty hunger as a pack of hyenas. Only Mike hadn't lifted his gaze from his plate, throning in the middle of them, bored and disinterested.

Will took a deep breath, refused to let himself be shunned by those idiots. He wasn't risking an F and he wasn't going to let Mike ignore him to oblivion.

“Lookey here!” Larry joked, “It’s your future boyfriend, Wheeler!”

“I think he came to suck your cock!” Devon continued.

“Faggot slurping on the go!”

Mike wasn’t looking at Will. His shoulders were trembling and he was red in the face staring obstinately at the wall in front of him.

“Mike,” Will started, his voice cracking.

Mike turned to him in slow motion, not really meeting his eyes.

“What do you want?” he asked.

Will swallowed, “Can we… uhm… talk?” he wanted to run away.

Mike bit his lip, “About what?”

“The English assignment… We haven’t had time to discuss the choice of a book and the deadline is for Thursday so maybe we should hurry.”

“Someone really wants to have your dick in their mouth!” Gabe slurred, elbowing Mike in the arm.

Mike looked all around him awfully uncomfortable. Beside him, his friends had started chanting _“Blowjobs! Blowjobs! Blowjobs!”_ attracting all the cafeteria’s attention and Mike bit his lip, grimaced, searching for something on the floor he couldn’t seem to find.

Will opened his mouth, ready to insist again but at the very same moment, the bell rang the end of lunch break and Mike jumped on his feet, fleeing.

“Another time Byers,” he said, looking at Will with a disinterested expression, throwing his bag above his shoulder.

Will winced, watched Mike leave, his friends laughing and winking at Will and Will wanted to cry, hurt and humiliated.

Mike had called him Byers. Mike had run away from him.

He ignored Matilda’s pitiful expression, hurried to his history class but couldn’t focus for the rest of the day. He resisted the urge to lock himself up in the restrooms to cry, put on a show for his friend and himself, cast pained glances at Mike who kept his eyes stubbornly locked before him.

Jane was wrong. This wouldn’t solve anything.

The bell rang again and Mike bounced out of the room, as if trying to save his body from inferno.

Will walked to his locker on wobbly legs, nausea threatening to make him ill in front of the whole school. He sniffled, opened his locker door and frowned when he saw a folded paper resting in the middle of the shelf.

He took it with a trembling hand, readying himself for new threats and insults.

_“Come to my house tomorrow after school. M.”_

His heart missed a beat. He could have recognized Mike’s handwriting among hundreds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought of it. I love reading your comments :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did the note truly come from Mike? Mike wasn’t looking at him at all, hadn’t acknowledged Will all day. If the note didn’t come from him, Will was sure to make a fool of himself. And after the scene with Gabe earlier, he no longer had the energy to be mocked again in one day. There was only so much he could take. He was even beginning to think he shouldn’t go at all.

No sleep came for Will that night, his brain overdriving on the message he had found in his locker. That message came from Mike. He was sure of it. He knew that messy, nearly illegible handwriting, as if Mike wrote as fast as the train of his thoughts. After years proofreading carefully elaborated campaigns, he would have recognized it anywhere. So yes, Mike had written him a secret note and left it in his locker, inviting him over. It could have been romantic but Will wasn’t stupid. He knew it wasn’t. The first question that came to mind was of course Mike’s intentions. Was it a trap? It had to be a trap, some sort of conspiracy to pull the fairy’s leg. They all knew how Will felt about Mike after all.

Why would Mike leave a note in his locker otherwise?

He laid on his back on his bed, in the semi-dark, with his eyes wide open and fingers crossed on his stomach, tapping regularly the back of his hand nervously as the hours elapsed in slow motion. From time to time, a car would pass, the light of its lamps reverberating on Will's ceiling and he watched the golden shadow slide to the opposite wall and disappear in a smothered roar.

_1 am._ A blink. _1.07 am_. A tap. _1.35 am_. A blink. _1.46 am_. A blink and a tap. _2.28 am_. A tap. _2.42 am_. A blink. _3.15 am_. A blink and a tap.

He swallowed, thrashing around the bed, exhausted and restless, his heart resonating in his ears, suffusing the entire silence of the quiet house. He just wanted to sleep but his mind was racing, shouting ineligible words, sounds and images going so _fast_ , it was like watching a movie in rewrite. _Mike's house._ He hadn't set a foot in that house in more than three years. And the last time he had, the awful evening he'd spent there, alone in that basement, dressed in a wizard costume by himself, their last D &D campaign discarded on the table before him, still burned in his memory. It was the day Mike decided dressing up was for kids and campaign nights an embarrassment. All had left him to honk like grownups, hanging out with cooler kids and parading with girlfriends.

But Will wasn't bitter. He _wasn't_. It was part of growing up, whether he liked it or not. People changed. It wasn't a bad thing to change. Will had changed too. Even if only a little. He was less sensitive than before, cried less. Pinned less. Five years ago, he still hoped Mike would eventually feel the same, be queer like him. That they'd go crazy together. Now, he'd long let it go. Mike wasn't queer. He was normal. And sure, a part of Will still had dreams sometimes. And Mike inviting him over to his house had somehow rekindled that old flame. He would have been lying if he said a part of him didn’t actually wish Mike’s invitation hid ulterior motives - _gay_ motives. But this was just Will being silly. Mike wasn't going to placate him against the kitchen wall and kiss him senseless, telling him he'd waited so long for this moment, for them to be alone together so he could ravish him and that it was the only way he’d found to. _No_. That was just Will's gay brain being silly. And gay. And drifting in gay. And Mike wasn't gay. Or silly. If the invitation was honest, it was just to work on the assignment. Nothing more.

A noise of annoyance rose from the back of his throat. He kicked his cover angrily, let his arms fall to his sides. His eyes were itchy and his head hurt.

_3.35 am._

And there was another problem. He hadn't been alone with Mike for years after all. What if he did something? What if his gay hormones went crazy on their own? His heated mind began to navigate somewhere between sleep and awakeness, Mike’s face appearing as in a kaleidoscope of red lips, rosy cheekbones and dark eyes. He was in the locker room again, remembering Mike without a shirt. The soft, pale skin. The gentle curve of his hip and ribs. The flex of his arms. The way he smirked and winked, taking his bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling surreptitiously. Alluring. _Inviting_. Will moaned on his bed, trying to reach further inside his dream and _touch_. He was edgy, his body throbbing with so much want and need. His hand twitched, stopping short on his chest, fighting the urge to slide into his pants and _squeeze_.

He tossed on the mattress like a fish out of water, sufficiently conscious to recognize the early signs of unwanted excitement. The kind that crossed the line and that he tried desperately to keep buried under layers of self-denial.

A quick glance at the clock. _4.12 am_. He was going to be sick. Only three hours left before his alarm rang for school. How was he supposed to function in the morning? Or the rest of the day? With Mike? Stress mingled with fatigue. He just wanted to catch the sleep train at that point, shutting his eyes and focusing on _falling asleep_ , begging his brain for it. He was right on the edge, just looking down the ravine with no way to go. And it hurt.

The train took him when he no longer expected it, pushing him into the abyss and he fell without remembering. His alarm went off suddenly, startling him awake on his bed, drenched in a cold sweat.

_7 am._

Passed the state of panic and overall confusion, he was left with a profound feeling of dread and utter exhaustion, nauseous, his heart hammering in his chest and head pounding. He ran a shaking hand through his damp hair, onto the sweat that pooled in his neck. His eyes were so heavy. He just wanted to go back to sleep and his head lolled to the side, eyes closing, falling into oblivion again before bolting awake a few seconds later.

After long minutes of this, he managed to drag himself out of the warmth of his bed for a much needed shower that only half helped clear his sleep deprivation fog.

His mind drifted back to Mike and fear slowly crept into his heart. Could today be over already? He didn't have the motivation nor the energy to fight through it.

He finished cleaning up, forced his body in a pair of old jeans and his largest blue hoodie that hid most of his body. The last thing he wanted was for Mike to think he had dressed cute to gay him up. Not that Mike would even realize if he tried to dress cute, or find him cute for that matter. He shook his head. He was drifting again.

After a last glance at his inviting bed and poor reflection, he dawdled down the stairs to the kitchen.

His sister was already at the table, pampered up in a fancy white blouse, her long brown hair styled in a ponytail, her painted fingers clawed around the cat mug she was sipping from.

“Hey,” he greeted in a hoarse voice.

She looked up and frowned, “Hey... What happened to you? You look like a zombie.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

He slumped into his usual chair, looking at the food before him without much enthusiasm, head low, arms hanging down his flanks.

“Here,” she said, handing him a cup of coffee.

“I don’t like coffee,” he replied as an automatism, accepting the mug nonetheless.

It tasted awful but he was too tired to be picky. Anything susceptible to provide energy was good to take. He began to binge on bread and cereals, desperate to put as much substance in his body and clear that horrible fog.

Jane was looking at him with huge, blinking eyes.

“Are you sure you weren’t turned into a vampire or something overnight?” she asked, “Really Will, if you had met someone strange looking with big teeth, you’d tell me right?”

Will didn’t bother replying with words and gave her a long look, munching on dry biscuits and an apple with a grimace. He hated apples. They always tasted too sweet and too sour. A moment passed during which Jane drank her coffee slowly, sparing him quick, concerned glances through half-opened lids.

“You missed a great show by the way the other day,” she said again, breaking the silence, “The band was awesome,” she looked up, making eye contact with Will and her expression turned coy, “ _Mike_ was awesome. He had put on light blue jeans that fitted his ass perfectly and heavy eyeliner. He was _hot_.”

Will groaned, taking a small sip from the bitter liquid with a wrinkle of his nose.

“You would have liked it!” she concluded.

“Whatever you say…” he grumbled.

He hated those assumptions. Those not-so-subtle allusions whispered in a tone of careless condescension, as if they couldn’t wait for him to say it, admit it, screaming at him, _come on, come out already! We all_ know _!_ He had no intention of wearing his physical preferences on his sleeve, thank you very much! They could wait for him in corners with spikes and torches, it would have been the same! And they were already late anyway. He finished his coffee, letting the cold bitterness burn his tongue and throat and rose on his feet to drop the cup in the dishwasher, his half eaten apple in hand, a biscuit between his tightened lips.

They arrived at school half an hour later and Will was feeling both buzzed and paranoid. Stress and sleep deprivation were taking their toll on his mind and the day hadn't even started!

“Are you gonna be ok?” his sister asked, giving him a long and insistent look.

“Why wouldn't I be?” he almost snapped, letting his head rest on the wheel.

She frowned but Will didn't let her speak further and hurried out of the car. They parted on the stairs, Jane joining her group of friends and Will avoiding the dirty glares that met his way down the hall of the school.

The first period of the day passed agonizingly slow and Will felt more tired with each minute that seemed to last a full hour. He just wanted to go home and sleep. He couldn't think of anything else. How was he supposed to survive a whole day - and go to Mike’s in the process? This seemed impossible. He was just too sick, blinking heavily, head supported in his hand, his heart drumming in his ears.

Matilda kept casting him worried glances that he ignored and she never pressed the matter.

Things got rougher with his last period of the morning, a class he shared with Mike. He waited anxiously for the boy to make his grand entrance. Five minutes after the bell had rung, he passed the threshold in a twister of jet black hair and chrystal laughter. Will sucked in a breath, unable to stop the flush that spread across his cheeks. Everything about him was flamboyant and flawless, from the way he moved his head to the side, to his white smile and dazzling confidence as he took the front row with his pack.

He thought of the note again and stress drummed back into his heart, making him quiver. Mike ignored him thoroughly however, not even sparing him a glance. A part of Will was hurt. He wished Mike had looked at him, if only once at all. But Mike didn't care about him. He laughed with his four friends, in his own perfect little world, smiling and winking at the girls who swooned over him with sighs and rosy cheekbones and Will, small, insignificant Will, couldn't tear his gaze off him. He was like a beacon of light. It was impossible not to look. The first to notice him unfortunately was Gabe Taylor and he caught Will staring at Mike in sad adoration. Will stopped breathing, his clammy hands balled on his desk as the two boys asserted each other. Gabe was gawking at him with a dirty, calculating smirk, his eyes expressing nothing but cruel glee at catching the boy in such a vulnerable moment. The fag in love. What a joke! Will averted his gaze immediately, feeling exposed and weakened.

The teacher burst into the room with a word of apology. The lesson began and for thirty minutes, Will was left alone in his own mental maze, doodling distractedly on his notebook lines and shapes that didn't form anything in particular. A paper fell on his desk. His insides shrunk, lungs burning from a deep breath. What was it again? He looked up. No one was staring back. They were all focused on the lesson, backs hunched over their desks. He gulped down nervously. After a full second of hesitation, he unfolded the paper. A part of him hoped it was a message from Mike.

It wasn’t. And if it was, then Will wished Mike had abstained.

It was a drawing of what probably was Will on his knees, hands and lips wrapped around the hugest cock he had ever seen and that clearly was ten times the size of a human, sucking hungrily, sperm dripping on his chin. His cheeks had been painted in two crude pink circles, in a poor imitation of Japanese erotica. At the top of the drawing, the words, “ _FEED ME I'M HUNGRY!”_ had been written in capital. The whole thing was so obscene and degrading, it brought tears to Will’s eyes and he crumpled the paper in his fist. When he looked up again, Gabe was smirking at him like a Devil, assessing his reaction like a vulture on a mission. Will held his gaze, not faltering for long seconds before Gabe' smirk turned hateful and he tore his eyes off him, flipping back on his seat toward the board.

Will’s attention span was gone for good, his body trembling all over with a mix of anger, humiliation and fear. It wasn’t the first and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. Still, the crude depiction on the paper hurt him more than words and left him with a bad aftertaste, tainted and dirty. Feeling ill about his own supposedly sexuality. His eyes wandered off again. They fell on Gabe and Larry, looking at him with small smiles and it was clear Larry knew about the drawing too. It became painfully evident when the two boys pushed their tongues into their cheeks to mime a blowjob, Larry’s eyes flickering between Will and Mike, wiggling his brow suggestively as he did so. Will looked away, repulsed. Beside him, Matilda was shaking her head at them, her lips retreated in a pout of disgust. She hadn’t seen the drawing but Gabe and Larry’s little show was gross enough.

Will tried to keep a steady breath. He just wanted to cry and his eyes bawled with unshed tears. It was taking all his self control not to let them fall. He spent the remaining quarter of the lesson looking down to his desk, ill and ashamed, his fingers curled on his sleeve.

The second the bell rang, he darted out of the room with his bag on his shoulder, not even waiting for Matilda, and went to lock himself up into the boys restroom. He had barely found himself alone that the flow of tears he had desperately restrained unleashed and he began to cry hysterically on his toilet lid. He tried to keep it as discreet as possible but he couldn't stop. He felt gross and a freak and he wanted to disappear. He cried for a moment, giving it all. After a dozen of minutes, his sobs slowly turned into hiccups. He knew he’d have to come out eventually. He couldn’t stay locked up forever. Matilda was probably worried sick and he hated giving his bullies this sort of satisfaction. It felt like letting them win. But sometimes he was just too tired to fight and put on a strong face.

He sniffled and blew his nose with toilet paper before unlocking the door and peaking out. At the same moment, the restroom door opened on Dustin Henderson who froze when he saw the rosy nose and puffy eyes Will hadn’t had time to rub out. A long second passed during which both boys observed the other in silence. Gradually, Dustin’s brow wrinkled in a frown.

“Will? Are you ok?”

Will sniffled, sighing in spite of himself, “I’m fine.”

He turned the faucet and began to rinse his face. Dustin was still burning holes into his neck.

“Did someone hurt you?” he continued.

“I’m fine, Dustin.”

“You’ve been crying, so obviously you’re not!”

Will sighed again, shaking his hands to remove the drops of water. He was about to say the exact same thing when the paper he had received in class fell from his pocket on the restroom tile floor. Will sucked a breath, bending to get it back but Dustin was faster. Will had barely reached out that Dustin had already swooped the folded paper off the ground effortlessly. Will looked away with a pout, bracing himself. Dustin’s reaction was immediate. His eyes widened and his lips puckered up into a grimace of sheer anger.

“Who did this?” he asked in a low, dangerous tone, eyeing the drawing as if it were covered in vomit.

Will shrugged.

“It’s Taylor isn’t it? It’s that piece of trash?! Him and McCormick!”

“Dustin, please…”

Dustin wasn’t listening. He was a huge ball of anger, hitting his hand with the fist that was holding the paper.

“I’m gonna fuck them up! I swear! I’m gonna destroy those motherfuckers!”

Will looked up in haste, “Please, don’t. You’ll only make it worse. Please, don’t do anything. Leave it be. I don’t _need_ a bodyguard. Or violence! That won’t help. Please,” he pleaded.

When Dustin went in bro mode, he was difficult to reason with. And being defended like a damsel in distress by Henderson was the last thing Gabe and Larry needed and Will was not going to give them this satisfaction.

“I’ll talk to Mike,” Dustin continued and Will’s breath filled up his lungs to the bursting point.

“NO! Please, don’t!” his voice expressing complete panic.

Dustin gave him a hard look, “He needs to know who he’s hanging out with!”

“He knows!” Will almost yelled back, “He _knows_ , ok! Please, Dustin, don’t do that. Mike is the last person I want you to talk to about me!”

Dustin held his gaze, trying to weigh the pros and cons of the situation.

“You need to report this,” he said after a while, “This is unacceptable.”

He shrugged, “It’s not worse than my locker…”

Dustin sighed and closed his eyes, as if pain, “Byers…”

“It’s ok, Dustin. I’m fine! I’m used to this.”

“This isn’t ok.”

“This is ok for people like me.”

He stopped, frozen. It was the first time ever he had come so close to say the actual words, to admit it. A surge or pure terror suddenly rushed through his veins and his jaw dropped in shock. A pair of gentle hands touched his shoulders, forcing him awake. Dustin was looking right at him, bending to be on eye level with him.

“Listen to me, Will. There is _nothing_ wrong with you. Nothing ok? Don’t ever let people tell you otherwise. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Will blinked away tears. Dustin’s face was really close to his. He bit his lip. Dustin smiled, wiping a small tear away from Will’s cheek.

“Will, the wise,” he whispered fondly.

Will sucked a deep breath. No one had called him like that in a while.

The restroom door suddenly burst open on a boy and the peaceful silence that had suffused all around was gone like a snap. Will swallowed. Dustin cracked his neck to the side. The boy had frozen in the frame, eyes full of shock and confusion flickering between Dustin and him. His face broke into a grimace of disgust and he fled out of the room, letting the door slam behind him.

Will sighed, “It might spread. Be prepared for rumors..."

Dustin shrugged, “That doesn’t scare me.”

Will looked away with a gulp. The silence that settled was heavy but not awkward.

“You still didn’t tell me if you came to my party next Saturday,” Dustin said after a while, “You know, for my birthday.”

Will blinked back into himself.

“Dustin…”

“No one will hurt you or bully you, I promise.”

“I really don’t know about that…”

“It’d mean a lot to me if you came. The Party! Reunited for maybe the last time!”

“There’s no Party anymore Dust. You know that.”

“Still, I’d love it if you came.”

His expression was hopeful, a bit sad and it made Will’s heart speed up in his chest painfully.

“I’ll see.”

Dustin smiled, “Thanks Byers.”

Outside, the bell rang. Will cleared his throat.

“I should go,” he said,” Thanks Dustin.”

Dustin nodded, “Anytime Byers. I am your friend, you do know that right?”

Will bit his lip, “Yes.”

Dustin smiled, “I need to take a leak!” he said, trying to lighten up the mood.

Will chuckled awkwardly, “Ok!”

“See you later Willy Bean,” Dustin promised warmly.

Will smiled with a small shrug, “See you, Dustin.”

Lunch was quiet. Will was munching on his peas without much appetite, trying to ignore the insistent looks Matilda kept casting his way.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s the matter with you?” she said after a while.

Will blinked at her, “Nothing. I’m tired, that’s all.”

“Is it about Taylor?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing.”

His attention wandered off the cafeteria. His eyes fell on Mike. They always found him with a terrifying acuity. He was eating, chatting up with Larry, Gabe and Jessy. He frowned, lost in thoughts, his fork stilled in his plate. Did the note truly come from Mike? Mike wasn’t looking at him at all, hadn’t acknowledged Will all day. If the note didn’t come from him, Will was sure to make a fool of himself. And after the scene with Gabe earlier, he no longer had the energy to be mocked again in one day. There was only so much he could take. He was even beginning to think he shouldn’t go at all.

Fingers clicked in front of him, making his eyes squint painfully.

“Will?! Are you ok?” Matilda insisted, “What’s going on? What did Wheeler do this time?”

He swallowed, looking down at his plate.

“Nothing…” he answered, drawing patterns with his fork among his peas, his head resting in his hand.

"I mean, apart from being physically perfect and annoying," she interjected playfully.

Will chuckled in spite of himself, shoulders jolting a little, still toying with his food without really eating it.

“I think he left me a note in my locker to invite me over to his place after school," he confessed.

It was followed by silence, Matilda being at a loss for words for a short moment.

“Invite you over? What for?”

Will shrugged, “Work on the assignment I guess.”

“What are you gonna do?” she asked hesitantly, her lips puckered in a small grimace.

“I have no idea.”

“It could be a trap…”

“Maybe… But we have to advance. We’re supposed to have decided on a book by the end of the week so... And he won’t risk being seen with me in school.”

“So he invites you over so you can be alone at his place. Legit…”

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing!” she took a bite of her pasta, “Are you sure it’s him? Who left the note, I mean.”

“I could recognize his handwriting anytime.”

She nodded, “If you’re sure.”

"I'm not."

He thought about it all afternoon, even in Art class which was his favorite subject. He was terrified. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe Will was never supposed to have it. Maybe it wasn't meant for him at all. After taking a deep breath, he turned the engine with shaky fingers and pulled out.

The drive to Mike's house only took ten minutes. He parked on the sidewalk just across, staring at the house with a fast-beating heart, his hands dampening the wheel he was holding onto. Memories rushed to the surface, mind images of him bike riding happily, excited to spend another great evening with his favorite person in the world. Now, his heart was filled with dread and he thought he was going to be ill.

After long seconds of bailing, he removed his belt and dragged himself out of the car, taking the smallest steps toward the door. His head was spinning. What was he doing here? What if Mike wasn't home? What if Mike didn't expect him? What if _Karen_ opened the door? Or worse, Ted?! He gulped heavily, his hand balling into a fist to knock, his heart in the back of his throat. He had barely touched the door that it swung on its heels, Mike appearing in the frame and Will positively froze.

Mike's expression was neutral. He wasn't smiling but he wasn't sulking either. He half acknowledged Will with a blink and stepped back, leaving the door wide open as a silent invitation.

Ok… Not exactly the warm welcome Will had hoped for…

He pushed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and walked inside, closing the door behind him. Mike had already disappeared in the dining room, not waiting for him. Will took a deep breath, looking around him. It still smelled the same, even after all these years. A mix of cherry pie and fire wood that brought waves of nostalgia down Will's memory. More pictures hung on the walls. Mike and Holly older. Nancy's graduation. His hand was still on the front door handle, as if to support him and give himself the option to flee if need be.

After long seconds of hesitation, he joined Mike in the next room, staying in between to keep his distance, looking at his feet and the carpet.

"I didn't think you'd come," Mike said without any emotion in his voice.

Will lifted up his gaze to meet his.

"Me neither."

"How did you know it was me?"

"Your handwriting."

Mike nodded, looking at Will as if their years of close friendship had never existed. His chest heaved in a breath and he moved to the kitchen without a word, leaving Will alone in the middle and for a moment, Will feared the trap he was falling into would set up. Nothing happened and Mike returned from the kitchen with cookies, glasses and a bottle of orange juice. He watched him put everything on the table, rooted on his spot, unable to move a muscle.

When Mike realized Will wouldn't join him on his own, he beckoned him with a nod, pulling out a chair on which he sat, staring at Will expectantly. Will swallowed and walked to the opposite end of the table, by the door, taking the furthest chair from Mike as possible. Mike arched his bow but didn't make any comment. He took a cookie instead, biting in it with appetite. Will didn't utter a word, gathering his hands on his lap, making his body as small as he could. 

"Yours parents aren't home?" Will asked.

"Why?" Mike said, holding his gaze, "Afraid to be alone with me, Byers?"

Will swallowed, unable to find an answer. There was something in Mike's tone, a drawl in his voice, a glimmer in his eyes, that sent Will's heart jamming in despair and he averted his gaze, suddenly uncomfortable.

Mike cleared his throat and continued, his voice back to neutral, the strange, quiet drawl gone.

"No. My parents aren't here. They're visiting Nancy and Holly is staying at a friend's."

Will nodded. Silence returned. Mike observed him for a while, munching on his cookie and Will was trying his hardest not to stare at those lips and the pink tongue that regularly poked through to lick at the crumbs. He swallowed the last bit of his cookie and pushed the pack toward Will.

"So," he began, grabbing a piece of paper from his school bag, "I've started a list of well known books we could work on if that's ok with you."

Will nodded blankly. Mike could have recited the recipe for artichoke lasagna, it would have been the same. He was just too captivated by the sound of his voice and felt completely ensnared, eyes wide and cheeks a deep shade of pink. Mike noticed, looking down and biting his lip in semi embarrassment and Will felt terribly stupid.

"Okaaaay!" Mike joked, trying to keep his tone light and almost gentle not to spook the poor little gay boy in love with the prettiest guy of the school.

He handed Will the list, making the paper slide to the end of the table and Will caught it as best as he could, gulping nervously.

_To kill a Mockingbird_  
_Mobi-dick_  
_The grapes of wrath_  
_Huckleberry Finn_  
_The Old Man and the Sea_  
_Slaughter-house five_  
_The catcher in the rye_  
_The Great Gatsby_  
_Of mice and men_

And the list continued.

"Do you have a preference?" Will asked.

Mike shrugged, "I like Vonnegut. _Slaughter-house_ five is a great book. But I prefer _Cat's cradle_."

Will shook his head, "I haven't read it. I don't like Steinbeck. It's boring."

"I don't like it either."

"Must we take a book from that list?" Will asked shyly.

Mike rolled his eyes, taking another cookie, "It's just a list, Byers. We can pick any other book if you're not inspired by these."

Will tried not to mind the Byers although it always stung hard. He remembered a time Mike called him Will, asking about his well being every minute.

"What's your favorite book?" he asked.

Mike arched his brow, "Going to personal questions so soon?"

Will blushed immediately and averted his gaze. Mike was still looking at him with a small smirk, tapping his black painted nails on the table. His smirk widened. He was amused and Will didn't understand why. Mike' shoulders jumped with a chuckle and he bend forward to serve two glasses of orange juice. He took one and pushed the other one toward Will along with the cookies.

Will took the glass hesitantly and brought a cookie to his lips, biting slowly. Mike wasn't afraid to catch his disease and if he was, he wasn't showing it too much.

"Relax Byers, it's a joke. I don't bite. I mean, not in this kind of situation!"

Will choked on his cookie. What the actual fuck? What was Mike playing at?

"Anyway," Mike continued, sounding completely neutral, as if he hadn't made a sex joke a minute prior, "We could go for _Slaughter-house_ _five_ I guess. It really is a cool book with a strong criticism of war and American society. Of course, there are other authors to choose from. Many of them. Poe, Hawthorne… Lewis... _The Monk_ could be an interesting choice. I read it so many times."

"I didn't know you read so much…"

There was a pause, a chuckle. Mike took a sip of his juice and locked eyes with Will.

"What do you know about me?" he whispered in that same drawling voice.

His answer felt like a slap and Will froze on his chair. There were so many things he wanted to say. _I know that you left me. I know that your friends are horrible bullies. I know that you have changed beyond recognition. I know that you broke my heart._

Instead, he settled for a soft, "Not much. I mean, not much with this new version of you."

It was a low blow and Will knew it. They weren't here to fight but then again, he hadn't been alone with Mike in three years and there was only so much resentment he could keep.

Mike was about to speak but Will continued, unable to stop.

"Why am I here?" he asked a bit too harshly.

"Because we've been paired up to work on an English assignment."

"You know what I mean. Why here? Why not the school library? Or any other library in Hawkins."

"There's only one library in Hawkins and it's lame. As for the school library, you know why."

Will wrinkled his nose in anger, "Didn't want to be seen with me and tarnish your reputation?"

Mike blinked without emotion.

"Gabe and Larry would've been on our backs and that would've pissed me off."

"It doesn't seem to piss you off too much when they push me around and spit on me," Will accused.

He didn't want to do that. He really didn't. It was this house, his small smirks, his strange half-cold, half-too-warm attitude. The frustration. The painful unrequited love. Mike didn't answer. He grabbed another cookie and bit into it. Will waited for long seconds for Mike to say something. To apologize. To find excuses. He wanted Mike to have one real emotion, stop with the stupid games he was playing alone. But Mike didn't say anything. He ate his cookie in complete silence, ignoring Will and Will suddenly had enough. Before he could control himself, he rose from his chair, shaking with a cold anger.

"I can't do this," he said, "Pick the book you want. I don't fucking care!"

He turned on his heels, flipping his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door.

" _Orlando_ ," Mike suddenly said.

Will froze and turned his head to look at Mike, confused. Mike was staring at him calmly, munching on his cookie, completely unaffected by Will's outburst.

"My favorite book," Mike explained, "It's _Orlando_."

Will swallowed and blinked, more confused than ever. Why did Mike say that now? What was the fucking point?! He didn't give a damn about Mike's favorite book! Who the hell was that Orlando anyway?! Without another word or look, he darted off the room and left the house, slamming the door behind him.

Wheeler could go to Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait. Don't hesitate to tell me what you thought of it!


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